


Sometimes the Stars Don't Align

by ANKLE



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Coma, Hospital, Hurt/Comfort, Kuroo is a really good friend, M/M, Panic Attacks, bokuaka angst, good and bad endings, split ending, vague suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:33:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24835435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANKLE/pseuds/ANKLE
Summary: After high school, Akaashi and Bokuto fell out of sync. Bokuto went on to bigger and better things, while Akaashi desperately tried to cling onto the familiarity of their old lives. One by one, he loses his grasp on everything familiar and stable in his life until he has nothing left to lose. Bokuto, lightyears away, isn't there to catch him.The timing was never right; sometimes the stars don't align; soulmates aren't always meant to beOR Bokuto is oblivious and pre-occupied and Akaashi loses everything, including Bokuto
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 16
Kudos: 142





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 5AM by Ex:Re is coupled with this fic, so please give it a listen while you read

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5AM by Ex:Re is coupled with this section of the story

No one expects a simple crush to be something that can totally, and quite literally, destroy your life. People’s lives are destroyed by cheating significant others, or messy divorces; something that has already happened and created some semblance of happiness in your life. Nobody’s life is ended from a stupid, high school crush.

Usually, one would approach their crush and confess which has two outcomes: one outcome that makes you happy and you two share feelings, and the second outcome where the feelings are not mutual and you hurt for a little while, but eventually find someone better who  _ will _ appreciate you. You get over it and probably forget about it. 

So why did Akaashi’s stupid, high school crush land him in the hospital intensive care unit, a machine making him breathe while he teetered on the cliff between life and death? 

* * *

It was in Akaashi’s first year at Fukurodani when he realized that his attraction to Bokuto wasn’t just an admiration for his volleyball skills and his warming personality. Akaashi realized at the end of his first year that he wanted  _ more _ of a relationship with Bokuto than what they had. 

But expressing his feelings wasn’t something that came easily to him, especially not feelings of attraction for someone of the same gender. He had denied being anything other than heterosexual since fifth grade. He was straight, of  _ course _ he was. He’d heard his parents voice their opinions on the LGBTQ+ community and he refused to have those words be applied to  _ him _ . 

Then Bokuto came along and denying his feelings became harder and harder until he was daydreaming about what dating Bokuto would be like, and what a great boyfriend he would be. But Akaashi couldn’t take the risk of ever confessing to Bokuto, let alone coming out to the team, or anyone for that matter, as gay. That would have to be his dark secret. 

Graduation came and went. Bokuto went off and became a world-renowned volleyball player, everything he had ever wanted. And Akaashi, despite working under his parents’ harsh instruction and trying to be the son they were trying so hard to mold and groom, did not become everything they ever wanted. 

He became an editor for a shounen manga distributor. It wasn’t exactly bad work, but he knew it displeased his parents. His parents caused the first fracture of his structure. 

* * *

Akaashi returned home to his apartment, dropping his bag on the floor and promptly collapsing onto the sofa. He didn’t bother turning on the lights and he laid there in the dark, staring blankly across the room. His chest felt tight. He knew he’d lost his parents. They were probably already discarding any evidence of his existence. 

He had known they wouldn’t take his coming out well, but the way it had turned out was so much worse than he could have ever imagined. 

Tenma had been encouraging him to tell them for weeks now. Finally, Akaashi gathered the courage to do it. So he video called them before leaving the office. Everyone else had already gone home. He was the only one there, as usual, working late. He propped his phone up on his desk and sat rigidly in his chair. 

_ “Keiji,” _ his mother had cooly answered. 

Akaashi wrung his fingers together beneath his desk, out of sight from his mother. He swallowed and tried to force a smile. 

_ “How are you doing? Is dad there?”  _ he had started shakily. 

His mother sighed, studied her son, then called for her husband.  _ “I’ve just gotten home from work. I’m very tired, Keiji. What is it?” _

His father shuffled into frame beside his mother. His sharp, piercing eyes shortened Akaashi’s breaths. He tried to convince himself that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. 

_ “Ah… I’ll try not to keep you long, then,”  _ Akaashi had said, looking down quickly. It felt like there was a large form looming over his chair, shadowing him darkly, rubbing his shoulders with cold, dead hands.  _ “There’s just something important that I feel you should know. I don’t want you to see me any differently because of it… I’m still me.” _

_ “What is it, boy?”  _ his father spat impatiently.  _ “What have you done this time?”  _

Akaashi couldn’t see his phone clearly, his vision tunnelling and darkening.  _ “I’m sorry. I’ve known for a few years now. Um, it’s about why I’ve never had a girlfriend…” _

His parents were quiet, their silence suffocating. Then, his mother icily said,  _ “I hope this isn’t going where I think it’s going.” _

Akaashi hesitated. He blinked rapidly, feeling his eyes burn.  _ “I’m sorry,”  _ he had said weakly.  _ “I- I like guys. I’m…”  _ A rock lodged in his throat.  _ “I’m gay. But I’m still the same person! I just like guys instead of girls.”  _

His parents had ended the call without another word. Akaashi felt his body start to tremble violently and he swallowed painfully, watching his phone go dim. He sat numbly in the half-lit office, listening to the whir of a fan in the corner as a hairline fracture travelled across his shell.

He didn’t remember the commute home from the office. 

Now, lying on his couch in the dark, he could feel more cracks form on his structure. Tears leaked from his eyes and he couldn’t gather a full breath. His body felt like it had been electrocuted, his muscles spasming violently. An anxiety attack; he had had them before, many times. 

Akaashi curled up on the couch, coughing out a sob. His limbs felt like they were being slowly torn from his body as he spiralled into the attack. He moaned loudly, sobbing and sniffling. His hands were shaking uncontrollably. His head was spinning. He pressed his forehead to his knees, lightly banging it against them. 

He couldn’t breathe and he felt like he was drowning under the tears on his face. He stumbled off the couch and dropped down to his work bag, shakily fumbling for his phone. He didn’t know who he was going to call. Tenma? Bokuto? 

Akaashi rocked forward on his knees, folding in half and sobbed into the floor. He moaned like a dying animal, clinging onto his cellphone like it was his only lifeline. Suddenly he felt lost. He didn’t know what to do next. What was there to do? He’d lost the only people who had ever directed him in life, telling him what to do and how he should be.

He phoned Kuroo. Akaashi liked Kuroo. If Kuroo reacted badly to Akaashi coming out, he might be able to handle that rejection. At least, a lot easier than if he were to call Bokuto and have him spit in his face. 

“Yello,” Kuroo’s low voice said. 

Akaashi felt another sob wrack his body at Kuroo’s voice. He stuttered a few breaths then croaked out, “I need to talk to someone.”

“Wha- What’s happening? Are you okay?” Kuroo asked, instantly worried and confused. 

Akaashi sobbed into his hands, dropping his cellphone. He shook his head slowly and tears dripped off his nose. He couldn’t tell Kuroo. He shouldn’t have told his parents. He should have just kept it a secret forever. He should have died with it. 

“Akaashi, what’s going on? You’re kind of scaring me.”

“I came out to my parents,” Akaashi finally mewled, putting his phone on speaker phone. “I’m gay, Kuroo. And- And- And-” More sobbing interrupted his sentence, silencing him. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.” 

“Okay, okay, shh, just take a breath for a second,” Kuroo advised. “We can talk about this after you’ve calmed down a little bit first. Just breathe, Keiji. Grab a drink of water. Wipe your nose. What do you usually do when you have a panic attack?”

Akaashi sat up and wiped his eyes with his shirt, but more tears quickly flooded down his face. He  _ couldn’t fucking breathe _ . He couldn’t respond to Kuroo. What did he do? He just let it consume him most of the time. 

“Akaashi,” Kuroo said firmly.

“What?” Akaashi hiccuped, chest jumping as his lungs tried to get oxygen. 

“You’re going to be okay,” Kuroo said. “Your parents might come around. They’re from a different generation, they have a different mindset. The concept of people being anything other than heterosexual to them just… doesn’t exist. And… I know your parents have always kind of had a narrow scope of the world. But you’re still you. I don’t think of you any differently now that I know.”

Akaashi blinked and wheezed a few breaths forcefully, trying to calm himself down. He picked up his phone again and whispered, “They won’t, Kuroo. You don’t- You don’t know them. I’ve let them down so many times and this was the last straw. I’m going to be cut off from my family completely. I’m an embarrassment.”

“Don’t,” Kuroo said. “Don’t tell yourself that. You’re not an embarrassment and you’re not a let down. Bokuto would say the same thing.”

Akaashi reeled backwards, falling against the floor. He stared at his ceiling, at the dark light. An invisible foot planted itself on his chest and pressed downwards, snapping his ribs and puncturing his lungs. 

“He doesn’t know.”

“What?” Kuroo asked.

“He doesn’t know I’m gay,” Akaashi clarified, feeling breathless. Gravity was trying to pull his eyeballs into his skull. His body felt like a deflated hot air balloon. Limp, cold, and useless. “Kuroo, please stay on the line. I- I feel really alone right now. Please don’t hang up, I’m so scared.”

“I’ll stay on the line for as long as you need, Akaashi,” Kuroo said quietly, sadly. 

Akaashi put his phone on speaker, placed it next to his head, and laid motionless on the cold floor of his dark apartment through the night, Kuroo listening to his ragged breathing the whole time.

* * *

The next time his structure was damaged was at one of Bokuto’s games. He always took time out of his day to go to Bokuto’s big games; he always loved watching him at his strongest. It hurt a little to see him doing well with sets that weren’t his own, but Akaashi had always known that Bokuto would be more talented with a better setter than he ever was. Bokuto always had a knack for only finding the best things in life. 

Akaashi was at the game by himself this time - everyone else was busy. He sat in the crowd, unable to stop the smile on his face as he watched Bokuto shout excitedly and hug the other members as they won the game. He quickly left the bleachers and made his way down to the ground level, ready to congratulate Bokuto in person. There was already a wave of people leaving the gymnasium as well, their chatter loud. 

Akaashi pushed into the gym, clutching his shoulder bag tightly and hesitantly making his way over to the team. His heart was pounding in his chest and suddenly he realized that he wanted to confess to Bokuto. He wanted to tell him how he felt. 

“Koutarou!” 

Akaashi stopped abruptly, as if running into a wall, as a girl ran by him, jumping onto Bokuto and clinging around his neck. Bokuto broke into a wide smile, kissing her. 

Mold began growing in Akaashi’s stomach, covering his intestines and climbing up his throat, making him nauseous. He blinked and quickly spun around, shuffling out of the gymnasium with his head down, hoping they hadn’t seen him. He stopped outside the door of the stadium, looking up finally. 

A girlfriend? When had Bokuto gotten a girlfriend? They told each other everything. Surely Akaashi would have known. 

Or, maybe only Akaashi told Bokuto everything. Perhaps their relationship wasn’t as close as Akaashi originally thought it was, or as close as it used to be.

His hands were numb as he pulled out his cellphone. When had he started calling Kuroo every time he felt the world closing in on him? He’d always called Bokuto whenever this happened. But Bokuto was always too busy these days to talk Akaashi off the ledge.

“Akaashi, hey, how’d the game go? Did they win?” Kuroo asked. 

“Yeah,” Akaashi said. “They won. It went well.” 

“That’s good.” Kuroo paused and silence hung onto the line. “You called about something else, though, didn’t you?”

Akaashi frowned and cleared his throat, trying to hold it together. “Did you- Did you know Bokuto had a girlfriend?”

“No, hey, good for him,” Kuroo said. “Must be a new thing. Have you seen her? Was she there?” 

Akaashi shook his head. The mold inside his body was spreading and making him feel uneasy and scared. “I was going to…” His words trailed off. Kuroo didn’t want to know that. He didn’t care about Akaashi’s stupid little crush. They were adults now. Tears misted his vision. “Kuroo, I was going to tell Bokuto that…” How the fuck did he tell Kuroo that he’d been in love with Bokuto since high school?

He felt so stupid. He felt so alone.

“I like him,” Akaashi finally got out weakly; pathetically. “I was going to confess to him after the game. I’ve liked him since high school.”

Silence.

Akaashi’s heart tightened as the mold engulfed it. He closed his eyes tightly and focused on keeping his breathing even. Why wasn’t Kuroo saying anything? Was Akaashi  _ that  _ pathetic? Why was he only making a fool of himself these days? Why did he keep losing everybody in his life? 

“I’m sorry, you don’t-”

“I figured,” Kuroo interrupted. “Or, at least since you came out to me it kind of all started to come together. I’m going to assume Bokuto still doesn’t know you’re gay?”

Akaashi sighed and slowly started wandering down the walkway. “No, and there’s no point in telling him now.” He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his hands into fists, whispering vehemently, “ _ Fuck _ . I’m so pathetic. I’m sorry for bothering you with all of this. You don’t need me crying to you every time something goes wrong.”

“Don’t say that. You’re not pathetic, and I don’t mind you calling me. Really. It’s fine,” Kuroo objected. “I think you should still tell Bokuto, though. If he has a girlfriend now… If you don’t get it off your chest, it’s not going to feel any better.”

Akaashi looked up at the sky. “You’re right. I’ll call him right now. He- He won’t be busy now, just getting changed and stuff. Thanks, Kuroo. I’ll talk to you later.”

He hung up and immediately called Bokuto, listening to the phone ring. He quietly begged Bokuto to pick up, because he feared if he didn’t, he would lose his courage and never confess to Bokuto. 

“Akaashi! Did you come to the game?” 

Akaashi’s heart quivered. “Yes. I thought that you saw me. I thought you waved.”

“Oh, sorry, no, I must have totally missed you,” Bokuto laughed lightly. “It’s hard to pick out a single person in the crowd, you know?”

“Of course,” Akaashi said shortly. “Congratulations on your win, by the way.”

There was yelling on Bokuto’s end and Akaashi listened to him shout something back. Then, into the phone, he said, “Sorry, ‘Kaashi, I don’t really have time to talk right now. Can I call you back?” 

“No!” Akaashi cried, embarrassing himself. “No, sorry, I’ll make this super quick. Just, please, give me one minute.” He took a deep breath, spreading a hand over his chest. His heart was pounding. “I’m gay, Bokuto. I’ve known I was gay since high school. And… And I like you. I’ve had a crush on you since high school and- and honestly, I think I love you. And I needed to tell you.”

The silence was deafening. Akaashi could feel pieces of his body start to chip away, as if he was made of porcelain and someone had knocked him over. 

“Thank you?” was Bokuto’s only response. 

Akaashi gaped, feeling the world reel around him. “ _ Thank you? _ That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

Bokuto’s voice was uncomfortable and strained. “Well… I don’t know what to say. That’s cool? I don’t care about you being gay, it makes no difference to me. But… I’m not. Gay, I mean. I have a girlfriend now.”

“Yeah, I saw,” Akaashi responded bluntly. “How long? How long have you been dating her?”

“Two months, I guess?”

Akaashi closed his eyes.  _ Two months _ . “And you didn’t tell me?” he asked, his voice cracking. “I thought we told each other everything. I thought you… I thought you trusted me.”

“I do trust you. Of  _ course _ I trust you, I just forget to tell you. I’ve been super busy lately,” Bokuto defended. “You’re still my friend, Akaashi. You know that, but now with us living two totally different lives, it's hard to keep in sync. We knew it might happen.”

Friend. Not best friend anymore, just friend. It was silly to focus so much on Bokuto’s choice of words, but every single one felt like a stab to his chest. He was losing Bokuto too. He didn’t even realize it, but Bokuto was pulling away, moving on to bigger and better things, while Akaashi was trying so desperately to cling onto what was familiar. 

“I have to go, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said quickly, afraid that if he stayed on the line with him any longer more of him would slip away. Akaashi ended the call and his arm dropped limply to his side. He raised his face to the sky, silently asking whatever god there was why they were letting him suffer. 

The bright sun and blue sky simply smiled back down at him. 

Akaashi’s entire structure shattered two months after he was laid off from the manga company. He had been called into his boss’ office and the news was bluntly delivered. They had to downsize and unfortunately Akaashi was the one to go. The next few weeks, Akaashi slowly started circling the drain as he watched every piece of his life fall away like the beautiful petals of a cherry blossom tree. 

First his parents, then Bokuto, now his job. What was next? What more could he possibly lose? 

His apartment. He had been living paycheque to paycheque and the landlord couldn’t wait any longer for the payment. Akaashi didn’t have a job, he didn’t have money. He had been eating canned soup and rice for all three meals for the past three weeks. 

Akaashi had never been more depressed in his whole life. He had nothing left. There was no light at the end of the tunnel for him anymore. In fact, there was no light  _ anywhere _ . What hurt the most was that Akaashi was  _ still _ texting Bokuto every now and then out of sheer habit, still stupidly trying to cling onto that familiarity he was so fond of. He didn’t  _ have  _ anyone else to tell what was happening in his life. 

**_A. Keiji …_ ** You probably don’t care much, but I just wanted to let you know that I’ve been laid off from my job, so I won’t be able to afford to come to your games anymore

**_A. Keiji_ ** **_…_ ** I’ll still watch every single one on TV though

Bokuto had read the messages, but no reply ever came through

**_A. Keiji …_ ** Congratulations on your game last night. You all did amazing. I have some bad news, unfortunately

**_A. Keiji …_ ** I’ve been evicted from my apartment because I haven’t been able to make rent, so I’m moving in with Kuroo for the time being. Just… so that you know what’s going on

A mindless response was all Akaashi got back. 

**_B. Koutarou …_ ** _ Sorry Akaashi :( I hope things look up for you soon! _

Akaashi dropped his bags on the couch, staring down at the little bit that he still had left. He was tired. His eyes felt like they were being weighed down by cement. Akaashi couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten more than four hours of sleep. With every next thing he felt slip out from between his fingers, two hours of restful sleep went with it. 

“Feel free to eat whatever you can find in the fridge,” Kuroo said, flicking on some lights. “The wifi is taped on the cupboard over here. Is there anything else you need?” 

Akaashi closed his eyes, feeling tears build behind his eyelids. Why was his life falling apart like this? What did he do wrong? He was always so careful, he always thought things through and had a plan B, C, D and sometimes even E. He wasn’t impulsive and didn’t make rash decisions. He never half-assed things. So why? Why was he sleeping on a high school acquaintance's couch with the only money being the money he’d made from selling most of his belongings after being evicted? 

A hic caught Akaashi’s throat as he breathed in and his shoulders shuddered. He brought his hands to his face, embarrassed for crying in front of Kuroo. He curled his shoulders in, hunching over and hoping that if he could make himself as small as possible, he wouldn’t fall apart so easily.

“Hey,” Kuroo said slowly, quietly. He stepped up to Akaashi, debating on touching him or not. “It’s okay. This kind of thing happens to people all the time. You couldn’t control this. Your life isn’t over, ‘Kaashi. It’s okay.”

“I don’t have any toothpaste,” Akaashi whispered, tearings sliding down his face. The toothpaste didn’t matter, but suddenly the absence of toothpaste in his life felt like so much more of a loss than it should have. It was just one more thing he didn’t have. His body shook as he cried over the toothpaste, tears clinging to his eyelashes. 

Kuroo awkwardly put his arm around Akaashi’s shoulders, squeezing him comfortingly. “I can buy you some toothpaste,” he said quietly. “It’ll get better, Akaashi, I promise. You just have to give it some time for the better things to come.”

Akaashi turned his body into Kuroo’s, arms folded against his chest, and dropped his forehead against Kuroo’s shoulder. Tears flooded from his eyes and dampened Kuroo’s shirt. He sighed sadly and hugged Akaashi, rubbing his back and mumbling that it would be okay. 

What more could Akaashi lose? 

After more than four months of sleeping on Kuroo’s couch, Akaashi found out what else he had to lose, but instead of wanting to cling onto it, something inside of him was begging for it to disappear. Akaashi would be happier if he lost this thing. 

It wasn’t exactly a premeditated decision at all. It just occurred to Akaashi one day and without another thought, he threw it away. 

Akaashi had been at the grocery store, picking up some food for Kuroo, as a thank you for showing him basic human kindness. When Akaashi went to pay, his card was declined. He gnawed on his lip, staring at the machine. 

“Ah, those machines are so finicky,” the teenage girl behind the register explained, waving a hand. “Try again.” 

Inside his chest, Akaashi’s heart was racing with anxiety and embarrassment. He swallowed and slid his card into the machine again, punching in his pin number. Again, the machine angrily beeped at him, the word  **DECLINED** flashing on the screen. Akaashi clenched his jaw. 

“Can- Can you take off the eggs and milk, maybe?” he asked weakly, his voice faltering. He stared at the small box of cupcakes he’d picked up. A sincere thank you. He didn’t want to have to get rid of them. 

The cashier tapped her screen then gestured back to the machine. Akaashi tried again. 

**DECLINED** .

What was happening? Akaashi was almost certain he had enough money in his account to at least buy this. He couldn’t keep eating Kuroo’s food. He pressed his lips together. 

“Maybe if we got rid of the-” 

“The cupcakes are the most expensive thing you have here, sir, perhaps I can take them off?” the cashier interrupted. 

Akaashi could barely see the numbers on the machine through the embarrassed tears in his eyes. He couldn’t breathe. His chest was tight. 

“Can you take off everything but the cupcakes?” he asked pathetically. His voice was thin. It was on the brink of breaking. 

The cashier hesitated then removed everything but the cupcakes. The total came to just over six dollars. Akaashi fumbled to insert his card again, his hands shaking so badly he could barely find the slot. 

**ACCEPTED.**

“Would you like the receipt?” the girl asked. 

Akaashi stared at the cupcakes. He was holding up the line. He was causing a scene. 

“Can I have a pen? And, request a favour?”

The girl hesitated. She handed Akaashi a pen and he took the receipt and flipped it over, writing down Kuroo’s name, number, and the short note  _ Thank you for putting up with me _ then handed it, shaking, to the cashier. 

“Can you call this number and let him know to pick these up here? I can’t take them to him anymore,” Akaashi said. His heart had calmed down. His tears disappeared. His voice was neutral again. 

The girl stared at him then picked up the cupcakes and put them aside, nodding. Akaashi thanked her and stepped out of the store and onto the sidewalk. He watched the cars go past. 

He felt calm.

Akaashi stepped right up to the edge of the pavement, only inches away from the vehicles flying past him. It was loud. The sound of the cars, the sound of the people, the wind. Had the girl called Kuroo? Was she even going to?

Akaashi pulled out his phone. He hadn’t spoken to Bokuto for weeks. The last text exchange they had was six days ago. Bokuto had sent Akaashi a photo of him and his girlfriend, at an amusement park. He had asked how Akaashi was doing. Akaashi told him that he was doing fine. 

**_A. Keiji …_ ** I’m sorry that we fell out of touch like this. I remember how you used to always be the star in my eyes, but I guess sometimes the stars dont align, huh?

**_A. Keiji …_ ** I hope the rest of your volleyball career goes well. Knowing you, I’m sure that it will. You’ve always been able to find only the best parts of life. I suppose I wasn’t one, but please don’t feel bad. I’m not asking for pity. I’ve come to accept how things have turned out

**_A. Keiji …_ ** I won’t bother you anymore from now on, so please live a good life

And then Akaashi stepped off the pavement and shattered. 

* * *

* * *

* * *

Vehicles came to a screeching halt, horns blaring. People on the sidewalk screamed in shock. A few people ran forward. The driver got out of his vehicle, hands on his head, visibly shaken. Multiple people were already calling 911. Someone was shouting, asking if anyone was a medic. People were coming out of the grocery store, confused, drawn by the commotion. 

The teenage girl who had helped Akaashi only a moment before looked over as someone loudly exclaimed, “Someone just jumped into traffic!”. She craned her neck and saw a flash of red amongst the people swarming the fallen body on the road. A shock went through her and she looked at the cupcakes she had put aside. The colour drained from her face and she picked up the receipt. 

She placed a closed sign on her till and lifted up the phone beside her computer. Carefully, she punched in the numbers that had been shakily written on the receipt. 

_ “Hello?” _

“Hi, am I talking to… Kuroo Tetsurou?” the girl asked. Her chest was feeling heavier and heavier as she stared at the  _ Thank you for putting up with me _ note on the receipt. She looked over her shoulder at the street again. Nausea tickled her throat. 

_ “Yeah, that’s me. Who’s calling?” _

She gave her name and the grocery store location, saying, “A black haired man came by a few minutes ago and bought cupcakes. He asked me to call you and let you know you’ll have to come pick them up.” She licked her lips, hesitating. “And… I think you should come quickly. I don’t want to make assumptions, but someone just jumped into traffic and… It looked like they were wearing the same sweater as the guy who bought the cupcakes.”

The phone line went dead as soon as the words left her mouth.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point in the story, two paths can happen. One will be a happy ending, and one won't be


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bad Path

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song coupled with the bad ending is The End by Daughter

By the time Kuroo had arrived at the grocery store, the ambulance had already come and picked up Akaashi. There was still blood on the road, being smudged and smeared by the cars driving in it. Kuroo got the cupcakes. He got the note on the back of the receipt. 

Where was the closest hospital? He’d asked dozens of people this question, frantic, while he called Bokuto repeatedly, constantly getting his voicemail. On what was the twenty-second time calling, Bokuto had finally picked up.

Kuroo told him what happened, yelling at him angrily. He shouted at Bokuto as he flagged down a taxi, telling him how stupid he had been acting. Kuroo had never been so angry in his life. He had never been so scared in his life. 

But Bokuto was in South Korea. He couldn’t come. He let Kuroo yell at him. He knew he deserved it. 

Akaashi was in a medically induced coma indefinitely. He’d suffered severe brain damage, his pelvis had all but shattered, and several other bones were broken and fractured. He had nearly died and was in the intensive care unit for weeks. For the first little while, he was in surgery pretty much 24/7. 

While Akaashi was in the ICU, Kuroo practically lived at the hospital. Kenma came by daily, bringing Kuroo decent food and clean clothes. A week after the incident happened, Bokuto showed up. He was stunned to find that Akaashi was still unconscious; that he was still barely holding onto life. 

Bokuto broke up with his girlfriend sometime that summer. He wasn’t aware of it himself, but she could tell that his mind was elsewhere and his heart was no longer with her. As Akaashi was moved from the ICU and into a monitoring room, Bokuto began flailing with volleyball. The team and the coach weren’t totally oblivious to what was happening. Finally, by authority of the head coach, Bokuto was placed on hiatus. 

Bokuto was beginning to understand how Akaashi was feeling; beginning to understand what he was going through the past eight or nine months. The feeling of control in life slipping out of your fingers and plunging you into a dark pit of hopelessness. 

But he couldn’t compare his struggles to what Akaashi had dealt with. As Kuroo told Bokuto more and more about what Akaashi had been battling with for the greater half of the year, Bokuto started to realize he knew  _ nothing _ about Akaashi anymore. He was a stranger.

And it was all his fault for letting it get this bad. 

With Bokuto now on hiatus from volleyball, he took turns with Kuroo sitting with Akaashi’s unresponsive form at the hospital. Tubes and wires were attached to him. A machine was breathing for him. His hair was sheared off completely. His neck was in a brace. His left arm was in a cast. His pelvis was pinned in place with metal rods and screws. He had a skin graft on his right shoulder.

The days began getting shorter as the cold, autumn weather rolled in. They passed by with little change in Akaashi’s condition, except for the growth of his hair. Bokuto watched them remove his casts one by one. He lightly touched the uneven skin tone of the skin graft. Kenma brought flowers for the room regularly, always taking away the dead ones so that when Akaashi woke up he would have something cheerful and lively to see. 

To pass the time at the hospital, Bokuto wrote Akaashi letters. He would sit by the bed and scribble out letter after letter throughout the day until he was surrounded by crumpled pieces of paper. Before he left, he would slip his favourite version into an envelope and slide it under Akaashi’s pillow. It was stupid, but he liked to imagine that by putting the letters under Akaashi’s head, he would read them while he slept. 

But the letters always disappeared. Bokuto’s heart grew heavy when he thought about the letters that Akaashi would never get to read because the nurses probably threw them out when they tended to him. Perhaps it was for the better, though; maybe Akaashi wouldn’t want to read the letters.

Little did Bokuto know, Kuroo was the one taking them. He had them on his kitchen counter. He wanted them to get to Akaashi eventually, but he also wanted to protect him in the case Akaashi woke up with no memory of what happened to lead up to him stepping in front of the van. 

The rainy season had arrived in full force when the rods and screws were removed from Akaashi’s pelvis. A few days after that, the doctors began withdrawing the drugs that were being used to keep Akaashi comatose. Kuroo and Kenma were the only two there when he woke up. Bokuto was afraid he would do more harm than good if he was there, and despite Kuroo’s insistence, he refused to be there. 

It was just one more thing he would fuck up.

* * *

Akaashi opened his eyes, feeling groggy. His lashes were crusted and his vision was blurred. His mouth was dry as a desert and his throat was in agony. He inhaled deeply and blinked a few times to focus on the figures beside him, watching him with furrowed brows and anxious frowns.

“Hey,” Kuroo said softly. “Have some water, yeah?” He lifted a glass and helped guide the straw to Akaashi’s chapped lips. 

Akaashi drained the cup in seconds and croaked, “Can I have some more?” 

Kuroo nodded and Kenma offered to grab a glass, quietly disappearing. Then a nurse came into the room and began asking Akaashi questions. 

Did he know where he was? Yes, a hospital.

Did he know why he was there? No, he couldn’t remember. 

Did he know the current prime minister? Yes, he could name him. 

Did he recognize the person beside him? Yes, but he couldn’t recall his name. 

She had Akaashi read a short passage. She checked his vitals. She asked him to lift both his arms over his head. She asked him to move his feet and wiggle his toes. Did he have any pain anywhere? His hips, he said, and his head. She told him she would bring something for him to eat and then left the room just as suddenly as she arrived. 

“My name’s Kuroo,” Kuroo said, studying Akaashi’s face. “We’ve been friends since high school. You’ve been living at my place for the last little while, before this anyways.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry for forgetting you,” Akaashi said, picking at a fingernail. He looked out the window, looking at the fresh flowers on the windowsill. Flowers meant for a casket. “What happened to me?”

Kuroo blinked, shifting in his seat. He wasn’t sure how much to tell Akaashi. Of course, he had the right to know, but maybe it was better if he didn’t remember some things. Maybe it was best if he could start fresh. 

“You were hit by a car,” he settled on. “You’ve been in a coma for the last six months.”

“Was the person charged?” Akaashi asked. 

Kuroo grimaced. “No, it wasn’t… It wasn’t really the driver’s… fault.” 

Akaashi looked at him. He looked at himself, looked at his frail body beneath the linen sheets. Kenma came back with another glass of water just as Akaashi asked, “I tried to kill myself?”

“Kuro,” Kenma said, looking at him sharply. 

“What do you mean  _ ‘Kuro’?  _ We can’t ignore the fact,” Kuroo defended, watching Kenma help Akaashi drink the water. “This is Kenma. Also a high school friend. He’s been bringing the flowers by. You really gave us all a scare, Keiji. I know you probably can’t remember why you decided to… do what you did, but you should have let someone know how far you’d fallen.”

Akaashi looked down, hanging his head. Tears dripped from his eyes suddenly, splattering against his needle bruises hands. He sniffed, shoulders shaking. He felt like his couldn’t breathe properly, and his entire body was in pain. He wanted to cry. He needed to cry. 

“ _ Kuroo _ ,” Kenma scolded again, hitting him. He grabbed a tissue and lightly placed it on top of Akaashi’s hands. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed and hugged Akaashi tightly, as if he could hug out the sadness. 

“It’s not Kuroo,” Akaashi sniffled, grabbing the tissue and dabbing his eyes and nose. “I remember. I know why I tried to kill myself. I still remember that. And I thought that he’d be here. I thought he would wait for me to wake up.”

Kuroo and Kenma shared a look carefully. Kenma rubbed Akaashi’s back and quietly said, “He’s been here while you were asleep, but… he figured that it might be better if he wasn’t here when you woke up, in case it brought back any unfavourable memories. But I guess you remember anyways, huh?”

Akaashi cried harder, grabbing his head and moaning, “Everything hurts so much. I want it all to stop. Why couldn’t he just  _ be there _ ?”

Kuroo and Kenma muttered some words to each other, wondering if they should ask if Akaashi needed more pain killers. Akaashi ignored their conversation, too exhausted to bother listening. His body was throbbing with dull pain. His head felt like it was being filled with cement and his hips felt like they were being squeezed by a giant’s hand. He wanted to slip back into the coma; he hated this waking reality. 

The nurse returned with a tray. It had pudding and some rice on it, along with another glass of water. Kuroo asked quietly if Akaashi could have more medicine for his pain. Kenma took the crumpled tissue from Akaashi and threw it out. Akaashi leaned back on the bed, closing his eyes. 

He just wanted to go back to sleep, and maybe not wake up.

Bokuto didn’t come visit Akaashi until three days after he had woken up. He hugged Akaashi and tried to pretend that everything was okay, wanting desperately to believe that Akaashi didn’t remember what a terrible friend he had been. 

But Akaashi remembered, and it hurt him more than when the van slammed into his body at seventy kilometres an hour. And still, Akaashi was just glad that this brought Bokuto back to him. He hated the excitement in his stomach when Bokuto told him he’d broken up with his girlfriend, but he had Bokuto back to himself again. Maybe things could go back to the way they were before. 

But would Akaashi have to keep walking this fine line of destruction and stability to keep Bokuto with him? 

No, Akaashi knew he couldn’t do that to him, or Kuroo and Kenma for that matter. It was dirty, toxic, and manipulative. And anyways, it never worked on his parents, so why should it work for anyone else?

About a week after waking up, Akaashi was released from the hospital. He was walking with a limp, something the doctors said might not go away. He moved back in with Kuroo, and Kuroo gave him his bed while he slept on the couch. Akaashi tried to convince him he could sleep on the couch, he was fine, but his constantly aching, skeletal body said otherwise. 

Akaashi’s phone was completely filled with text messages from his ex-coworkers and old high school friends who still kept in touch wishing him a quick recovery. The first night out of the hospital, Akaashi had a panic attack looking back on his text messages to Bokuto right before stepping into the road. They still the last things in their conversation; Bokuto never replied. 

It took about a month for Akaashi to regain the fifty or so pounds that he had lost while in a coma. Kuroo was cooking every night, and Kenma was helping support them with the bills until Kuroo went back to work. 

It was also around this time that Akaashi stumbled across the drawer full of unopened envelopes, all addressed to  _ Akaashi _ . They were all dated, and went back as far as August. 

Akaashi recognized the writing easily enough. It was Bokuto’s. 

He opened up the first letter and he began reading them, one by one.

* * *

_ Hey Akaashi,  _

_ The weather today is really nice. It’s warm outside, but there’s a nice wind to balance it out. The leaves are starting to fall off the trees and autumn is looking a little bit greyer than before. Shouldn’t be long before the rainy season begins. Hopefully you’re awake before then, but they still don’t really have a timeline for your recovery yet. _

_ They took off the cast on your arm today. Your arms have sure gotten thin since being in a coma, but I suppose that would happen after not eating anything proper for four months. You’ve always been thin. I know how much that bothered you, so make sure to eat lots when you wake up!  _

_ I’ve decided that the nurses have been tossing these letters since they always disappear from under your pillow, so since you’re never probably going to read this, I guess I’ll just say it all.  _

_ I’ve been an absolute jackass these last few years. I don’t know what happened. I just got distracted by volleyball and that world I was living in. I kind of dropped my high school world, you included. I never wanted that to happen, not in a million years did I want us to drift apart, but with us living separate lives now, it was hard to keep it from happening, I guess.  _

_ I didn’t return your calls or your texts because some part of me hoped you would move on too. I’m really fucking sorry for not putting that effort in anymore. You really, really didn’t deserve any of it. You didn’t deserve to lose your parents like you did for something you can’t control. Kuroo told me about that, and how you called him the night they shunned you. I had no idea what was happening in your life anymore and it was all my fault, and I should have been there for you like I used to.  _

_ And then of course there’s the game when you came out to me as gay, too. And when you told me you loved me. And I brushed you off, flustered and exhausted and feeling like I didn’t have the time for you. Looking back on it now, that was the worst thing I could have done to my best friend coming out to me. I kick myself over it every single day now, because I  _ knew _ you. I knew what kind of person you were like the back of my hand when we were in high school, and I didn’t even think about how my reaction that day probably really fucking hurt you.  _

_ Then you lost your job and I didn’t even call to see if you were okay. I didn’t check in. I didn’t talk to you until you lost your apartment as well, and remembering it now, my response was half-assed and thoughtless. I still didn’t even check in on you then, and now that Kuroo has filled me in with everything that had been going on, I’m so, so, so sorry. Back then, I wasn’t worried about you. I just figured it would sort itself out and you’d be fine. I didn’t need to bother myself with it.  _

_ You don’t know this, but when you jumped in front of that car, I was in South Korea. And it took me an entire week to come see you. I thought you would be fine. I didn’t know you were in a coma. I didn’t know how seriously you had been hurt. Obviously, Kuroo kept me in the loop, but… I just didn’t believe the severity of it. Now sitting here, listening to a machine breathe for you, I have been acting really self-centred, huh?  _

_ It’s starting to get late now, and visiting hours are almost over. I just want to finally tell you back that I love you, Akaashi. But platonically, as a friend. I don’t want to hurt you any further, but I’m not gay and I don’t like you the same way you liked me. I’m really sorry if I led you on or made you think I was returning those feelings. My feelings aren’t romantic. And I understand if you don’t want to talk to me ever again, I kind of deserve that.  _

_ I hope you wake up soon, and I hope we can try and repair our friendship. Have a good sleep, Akaashi. Goodnight. _

* * *

Akaashi woke up with tears on his face. He looked over at the scattered letters on the bed and floor. The side table lamp was on, casting a warm glow over the room. He sat up and wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand, turning on his phone and checking the time. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but it was almost four in the morning. 

Akaashi placed his feet on the floor, a few letters fluttering down. He stared at the wall across the room, his mind feeling foggy. Bokuto didn’t love him. He never would. Akaashi couldn’t fault him for that; he couldn’t fault him for not being attracted to males. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. Akaashi’s chest still ached, and he wanted to blame it on the ribs he had broken, but the ache was deeper, closer to his heart. 

Did he want to try and fix his friendship with Bokuto, or would it only start to hurt him more and more as time went on? How did people get over crushes? Why did his crush destroy his life? How did Akaashi handle it all so terribly that it got to this point? 

He stood up and crept out of Kuroo’s bedroom, tiptoeing out to the living room. Kuroo was snoring loudly, his body contorted uncomfortably to fit on the sofa. Akaashi swallowed and quietly ghosted into the living room, silently perching on the single person chair. 

Akaashi sat in the dark, listening to Kuroo snore, for nearly half an hour. Why did he feel so lonely even when he was only a few feet away from another person? He was so fucking alone; the world he’d built up around him throughout high school was starting to fall apart. The people in it were leaving. Akaashi was living in a ghost town now, only the memories of everyone still there. Even Kuroo and Kenma were still their high school versions in his world - he wasn’t moving forward like everyone else around him, and he supposed that was why he was now so alone. 

Akaashi inhaled deeply and went to grab his phone and a jacket. He stepped out of the apartment quietly, going down to the lobby and leaving the building. The air was cold and icy from the rain that evening. 

He stared at the street. It was quiet. This was what his world looked like, and suddenly he was terrified.

Akaashi phoned Bokuto, even though it was 5AM. He was all but ready to hear the voicemail tone, the message that he was too familiar with. Just another empty space he was trying to fill. Akaashi closed his eyes, smiling bitterly. Familiarity; when did Bokuto’s voicemail recording become more familiar to Akaashi than his actual voice? 

“Hello?”

Akaashi’s eyes flew open. “Kou-Koutarou? It’s me, Keiji. It’s Akaashi,” he corrected, painfully recalling how little Bokuto referred to him by his first name in his letters. 

“Oh, Akaashi, what time is it? Are you okay?” Bokuto asked, his voice gruff. There was shuffling on his end. 

And Akaashi heard a soft, female voice say something in the background. His heart clenched and suddenly regret hugged him tightly, squeezing his body like a noose. He shouldn’t have called Bokuto. He was so desperate, it was embarrassing. 

“‘Kaashi? Are you okay?” Bokuto asked again, his voice sounding more clear. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Akaashi finally responded. His voice cracked. “I got your letters. I read them. The nurses weren’t throwing them away. Kuroo had them.” His face broke and hot tears blinded him. “Bokuto, I don’t think-” He hiccupped a cry, gasping. “I don’t think we should stay in touch anymore. I think you were right.” Akaashi tilted his face up to the dark sky. The light pollution was shrouding the stars. Of course the stars couldn’t align when they couldn’t see each other anymore. Their closest neighbours were strangers to them. Tears trickled down Akaashi’s cheeks, staining them. “You were right, Bokuto, we live in different worlds. And… It wasn’t your fault for moving forward. We drifted because I couldn’t move forward, and I don’t think I can catch up with anyone anymore.” 

Akaashi felt his heart collapse into his stomach as the strings snapped and gave way under it’s heavy weight. He sobbed, hugging his midsection, as he choked out: “I don’t think we can fix what we had. I don’t- I don’t think I want to try.” 

Bokuto was silent. The only sound was Akaashi’s sniffling and hiccupping in the empty street, bouncing off the sleeping buildings and wet pavement. 

“Akaashi, what are you talking about?” Bokuto finally asked. 

Akaashi ground his teeth. “Why aren’t you more afraid?!” he shouted, clenching his hand around his phone. “You were always so emotional when we were in high school, why aren’t you feeling more?! Dammit, Bokuto! Damn you! Say something else! Say anything else than that!”

“I love you, Akaashi-” 

“Don’t fucking say that,” Akaashi snapped. “No, you don’t. I read the letters! I read them all!”

Bokuto sighed. “I’ve grown up, Akaashi. I’m not the emotional disaster I was in high school, and that’s your problem. You still see everyone as their high school selves.” 

“Aren’t you scared?” Akaashi whispered, feeling at the end of his rope. 

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re not afraid of losing me?” Akaashi wanted to lay down on the wet sidewalk. He hated the words coming out of his mouth. 

“I think I lost you a long time ago, Keiji,” Bokuto said sadly. “I know you know it too.”

Akaashi did. He knew it, and he was still paralysed with fear. “Can I still say goodbye?” he asked quietly. “I didn’t get to before.”

“Yeah,” Bokuto whispered.

Akaashi’s shoulders shook and he squeezed his eyes closed, tears bursting forth from his lashes. His body shook, either from cold or his crying, he couldn’t separate the two. Bokuto was a shooting star, Akaashi realized that now, moving forward, bright and exciting. Akaashi was a dying star, fading, flickering and quietly disappearing from sight. They were lightyears away. They would never meet again. 

Akaashi found his voice again and finally said, “Goodbye, Koutarou. You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’ll figure it out, just like you always knew I could.” He swallowed and pulled the phone away from his ear. He didn’t want to hear Bokuto’s response. As he pressed  **END CALL** , he quietly whispered, “Bye.”

Above his head, unbeknownst to him, a shooting star streaked across the sky.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Good Path

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song coupled with the good ending is Need The Sun To Break by James Bay

By the time Kuroo had arrived at the grocery store, the ambulance had already come and picked up Akaashi. There was still blood on the road, being smudged and smeared by the cars driving in it. Kuroo got the cupcakes. He got the note on the back of the receipt. 

Where was the closest hospital? He’d asked dozens of people this question, frantic, while he called Bokuto repeatedly, constantly getting his voicemail. On what was the twenty-second time calling, Bokuto had finally picked up.

Kuroo told him what happened, yelling at him angrily. He shouted at Bokuto as he flagged down a taxi, telling him how stupid he had been acting. Kuroo had never been so angry in his life. He had never been so scared in his life. 

Bokuto was in South Korea for volleyball and as soon as Kuroo started yelling at him, he knew that he’d fucked up and his heart climbed into his throat when he heard what happened. He hadn’t apologised to Akaashi; he couldn’t lose him yet; he still needed to make it up to him. 

Akaashi was still in surgery when Bokuto got to the hospital twenty-four hours later. Bokuto found Kuroo and Kenma waiting in some chairs in the lobby. Kenma was leaning against Kuroo, sleeping soundly. Kuroo caught Bokuto up with Akaashi’s condition. It wasn’t good and things were still touch-and-go. He had swelling and internal bleeding in his brain, and that was what they were still trying to get under control. 

They rotated sitting at the hospital and were, for the most part, living there while they anxiously waited for the okay to see Akaashi. He was in the intensive care unit and in a medically induced coma. Finally, after three terrifying days, they were given the okay for one of them to see Akaashi at a time. 

Bokuto was by his side from the minute visiting hours started to the second they ended. He spent the day staring at Akaashi’s bruised face, half hidden by tubes slithering down his throat and bandages over his nose and shaved head. He watched the doctors regularly record his vitals and empty his waste bags. He watched them change the bandages and massage his body to keep bed sores at bay. 

And it was that Akaashi that made Bokuto realise that he loved him, that he couldn’t lose him. The Akaashi with no hair, a purple and swollen face, and his urine and faeces hanging from bags at the side of the bed was the Akaashi that made Bokuto realise maybe he did want to spend the rest of his life with him. 

The day after Akaashi was moved from the ICU into a monitoring room, Bokuto broke up with his girlfriend. He explained that he was questioning if he was actually  _ into _ girls and that he felt he might like another guy. She took it well and was a lot more open and understanding than Bokuto had been when Akaashi confessed to him. 

Her comforting response struck Bokuto through the chest like a spear as he wondered how it would have felt to just be brushed off. 

Kuroo arrived at the hospital to find Bokuto crying at the bedside, pressing Akaashi’s knuckles to his trembling mouth. Kuroo quietly entered the room, putting his bag down at the foot of the bed and sighing, lightly placing his hand on Bokuto’s head. 

“It’s harder than you thought, huh?” he said quietly, looking down at Akaashi’s body. His hips were pinned in place with rods and screws. Kuroo thought it looked terrifying and painful, but Akaashi couldn’t feel a thing. 

“I just broke up with my girlfriend,” Bokuto sniffed, opening his wet eyes. “It shouldn’t have had to get this bad for me to realise I- I love  _ him _ . God, I handled this all really badly, didn’t I?”

Kuroo lowered his eyes, letting his hand slide off of Bokuto’s head. 

“Yeah, Bo, you did,” he whispered, the oxygen hissing angrily as it was fed into Akaashi’s lungs. He pulled up a chair and sat down beside Bokuto. “He wasn’t doing well right near the end.”

“He’s not dead,” Bokuto interrupted. 

Kuroo frowned. “I know, but he’s not really alive, either. Bo, you don’t even know a tenth of how bad it had gotten. He lost  _ everything _ . It was just one thing after another and he was trying to reach out to you.” 

”I know, I know,” Bokuto croaked, squeezing his eyes shut. “I wanted to… Fuck, I don’t know what I wanted. Not this, I didn’t want this. I felt like I was moving on and he wasn’t and I wanted him to try and make something new for himself. This wasn’t what I wanted.” He rested his wet cheek against Akaashi’s thin fingers, looking at the forced rise and fall of his chest. “Is it too late? Do you think it’s too late for me to fix this?”

They both looked at Akaashi’s lifeless form. Kuroo’s heart felt heavy. It seemed too late for anything anymore; they weren’t sure if Akaashi was going to wake up, and how different he would be if he did. But Kuroo didn’t want to take away Bokuto’s hope. He wanted his friends to return to their old selves. 

“Maybe not,” he finally said, slapping Bokuto’s back firmly. “Just don’t brush him off anymore. He’s got a lot of shit in that little head of his, a lot more than he ever shows.”

“I don’t really know if I want to know but… How bad was it?” Bokuto asked shakily. If he wanted to fix this and right all of his wrongs, he felt he needed to know just how deep Akaashi had fallen. 

Kuroo leaned back in his chair and looked over at the flowers on the windowsill. Then he told Bokuto what he knew, starting from Akaashi’s panicked call to him eight months prior after coming out to his parents.

* * *

The days were passing by slowly and Akaashi’s recovery even slower. The doctor’s decided it would be best for him to remain in a coma until the rods and screws were removed from his pelvis so that it could heal quicker without Akaashi moving around to cause complications, as well as to be safe that his brain trauma wouldn’t leave any lingering complications. 

Bokuto tended to the flowers that Kenma brought by every week, talking to them and to Akaashi, getting used to not receiving any reply. Bokuto started writing letters to Akaashi to pass the time at the hospital. He would hunch over the edge of the bed and messily scribble out everything he wanted to say to him, everything he wished he would have done differently, and everything he loved about Akaashi. 

At the end of the night, before leaving, he would slip the letter into an envelope and tuck it underneath Akaashi’s pillow. He’d kiss his forehead lightly and whisper a goodnight, imagining that Akaashi would read the letter during the night when no one was around.

The next morning, he would take the letter and tuck it into his backpack, telling Akaashi he would hold onto it until he woke up. 

As the weeks passed, Akaashi’s hair started to grow back to the length it was before. His casts came off one by one. The breathing tube was removed. Bokuto could close his fingers around Akaashi’s bicep and he thought back to the days when Akaashi desperately wished he could gain more muscle in his upper body. When had Akaashi started getting so thin? 

It was just another thing Bokuto hadn’t cared to pay attention to.

The weather was rainy when the doctors finally decided to remove the rods and screws from Akaashi’s pelvis. Once they were removed, they stopped pumping his veins with propofol and waited for him to wake up on his own. Bokuto sat with him, anxiously waiting for the drug to fully leave his body. Kuroo and Kenma came by as well, wanting to be there when Akaashi woke up. 

A few hours after they stopped the administration of the drug, Akaashi shifted and inhaled deeply, his eyes slowly flickering open. Bokuto carefully reached up and brushed away the crust on his eyelashes with his thumb. 

Akaashi lifted a hand and weakly wrapped his thin fingers around Bokuto’s wrist, pushing away his hand and blinking his eyes open. Kenma, Kuroo, and Bokuto peered at him intently as he focused his vision and groggily gathered back his senses. 

“Hey, ‘Kaashi,” Kuroo said quietly. “Here, have some water.” He guided a straw to Akaashi’s chapped lips and Akaashi quickly downed the water, swallowing and opening and closing his mouth to moisten his tongue. 

“How do you feel?” Bokuto asked hesitantly, his heart thumping in his chest.

Akaashi’s eyes focused on Bokuto for the first time. It took him a few delayed seconds to respond. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, his voice rough. “Fine, I guess.”

A nurse entered the room and politely asked if she could ask Akaashi some questions. Simple questions about how he felt, if anything hurt, and what Akaashi could remember. He couldn’t remember what happened for him to be in the hospital, and he couldn’t remember the name’s of the people by his bedside, but he could recognize them.

The nurse finished checking Akaashi’s vitals then said she would bring him something to eat before leaving again. 

“You don’t remember us?” Bokuto asked anxiously. 

“Well… I think I do. I recognize you all, I just can’t really… I don’t know, my head feels kind of foggy,” Akaashi said, closing his eyes tightly. 

“Well, you’ve been in a coma for just about six months, so that’s understandable,” Kuroo said. He pointed a thumb at Kenma and said, “This is Kenma. I’m Kuroo. You were staying at my place before all of this happened.”

Akaashi looked at Bokuto. 

“Ah, I’m Bokuto,” he said sheepishly. He battled with himself to apologize and say more, but eventually debated against it and figured he would let Akaashi get a bit of his strength and memory back first. 

“What happened to me?” Akaashi wondered quietly, turning his head away from his friends and looking out the window. The flowers were a brightly coloured foreground to the dark grey clouds that were moving in over the horizon. 

Kuroo cleared his throat. “You stepped out in front of a car.” 

“I don’t know if we should…” Kenma started quietly, barely audible as he shifted his eyes to Akaashi’s face. 

“I wasn’t successful, I guess,” Akaashi whispered, easily able to understand what Kuroo meant. He pinched one of the IV tubes that hung beside his head, watching the steady dripping. 

Bokuto chewed on his lip. “We’re really glad you weren’t,” he said, silently cursing himself for being so awkward. Then, he blurted out, “Akaashi, do you remember why you did that?”

“I don’t remember anything from that day,” Akaashi answered, turning to look at them again. 

“Bo…” Kuroo warned. 

“But do you remember anything from before that day? Everything that led up to it, do you- do you remember that? Do-” Bokuto hesitated. “Do you remember what I did?” 

“Bokuto,” Kuroo said firmly. “Not right now.” 

Akaashi stared blankly at his hands, folded in his lap. “Kenma, Kuroo, do you mind leaving for a minute, please?” 

Kuroo and Kenma gave Akaashi careful hugs before stepping out of the room, saying they’d go grab some food. After the door closed, thick, suffocating silence settled over the room. Bokuto twisted a thread on his shirt, anxiously waiting for Akaashi to speak. He didn’t want to push him, he didn’t want to speak over him. Not after ignoring him completely for nearly a year. Bokuto wanted to listen now. He  _ had _ to.

“It wasn’t you, you know,” Akaashi finally said. He shifted his eyes from his own hands down to Bokuto’s. “I didn’t… try to kill myself because of what you did. Or, I guess, what you didn’t do. It was just one thing after another, Koutarou, and I was so tired.” He closed his eyes, his breathing hitching. “I was so tired,” he whispered. 

Bokuto reached forward and grabbed Akaashi’s hand, closing his own hands around Akaashi’s ice cold, skeletal fingers. Then he leaned forward and pressed their hands to his forehead. 

“I’m so fucking sorry, Keiji,” Bokuto said. “I shouldn’t have let it get to this point, or even anywhere close to this point. You’re my best fucking friend, and when Kuroo called me to let me know what happened I… I was so scared I was going to lose you without saying sorry and without saying goodbye. I was terrified.” 

Akaashi felt the corners of his mouth tug downwards into a steep frown as he struggled to hold back his tears. He looked at Bokuto’s lowered head. His hair was down; it was messy and curled around his temples. 

“I’m so sorry,” Bokuto whispered again. “Please, I- I love you, Akaashi, if it’s not too late for me to say that. I understand if it is. You have every right to push me away. But I love you so fucking much and I don’t ever want to lose you.”

And Akaashi broke. 

Tears flooded from his eyes and he hunched over Bokuto’s head, hugging him and trembling. Bokuto adjusted his position and wrapped his arms around Akaashi’s midsection, hugging him tightly but carefully. 

“Come live with me, after you’re discharged. You’re going to need somewhere to stay,” Bokuto said wetly. “Come move in with me, Keiji. Let me take care of you.” 

Akaashi nodded, fingers gripping Bokuto’s hair tightly as he whispered over and over again, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…” 

* * *

Akaashi was discharged from the hospital a week later. He was left with a slight limp that the doctors couldn’t guarantee would ever fully go away. He was using a forearm crutch most of the time to take the weight off of his shattered pelvis, and Bokuto had never doted on Akaashi so much in his life. 

They moved him into Bokuto’s apartment and Bokuto insisted he sleep in his bedroom. Akaashi protested at first, but when he laid down for a nap in Bokuto’s bed, he slept just as soundly as he did in the coma. 

Bokuto cooked for him every night, promising Akaashi he would gain back the weight he’d lost in no time. Bokuto wasn’t a fantastic cook, and sometimes he had to scrap a whole meal and just order take-out instead, but he swore he would be there for Akaashi. 

And he was. As Akaashi’s cheeks started filling out again and the rainy season started moving on, he was smiling more and initiating interactions with Bokuto more and more. Slowly and hesitantly, they started to fall back in sync with each other. 

One night, a heavy storm rolled in. The electricity in the air and the miserable downpour was making Akaashi’s hips throb with dull pain. He couldn’t sleep and no matter what he did, the pain didn’t let up. He started getting impatient and frustrated. 

Eventually, he spread out on his back and called out Bokuto’s name. 

Within thirty seconds, Bokuto pushed open the door and asked, “Did you call me? Are you okay?” 

“Can you- Can you sleep with me tonight?” Akaashi asked, his face flushing red. He twisted his fingers together.

“Yeah, sure,” Bokuto said without hesitation. He crawled onto the bed and tucked his feet under the covers. He laid down on his side and looked at Akaashi. “Is everything okay?”

Akaashi pressed his lips together, forcing down a smile. “I’m fine. The storm is just making my hips hurt a bit. And I feel kind of alone.” 

Bokuto brought a hand up and carefully stroked Akaashi’s hair. “Please don’t feel alone,” he mumbled quietly. “From now on, until you get sick of me, I’m always going to be with you.”

Akaashi sighed then rolled over, shimmying backwards until his back met Bokuto’s chest. Bokuto slid one arm under Akaashi’s head and another around his stomach, hugging him closely. Akaashi hesitantly played with one of Bokuto’s fingers.

For a few seconds, they laid there quietly, almost stiffly, afraid to relax into the other one for fear of overstepping boundaries. Lightning lit up the room, followed by loud claps of thunder, and finally Akaashi asked, “Bokuto, do you love me? Be honest, please.”

Bokuto chewed on a lip, and after a few seconds of thought, linked his fingers through Akaashi’s and squeezed his hand. “Yeah, ‘Kaashi, I do. I really, really love you. I’ll love you until the last star fades from the sky. And you know what? I think I’ve loved you since you first came to Fukurodani. I don’t know what kind of love it was when we were in high school, or what kind of twisted love it was before your accident, but I think… I think it’s real, romantic love now. I think that I want you to be my boyfriend, and I think I want you to lay with me like this every night until we’re old, and I think that I really, really fucking love you.”

Akaashi huffed a laugh, quiet and barely noticeable except for the jolt of his shoulders. He brought their intertwined hands to his mouth, still silently laughing. Bokuto propped himself up, looking down at him and worriedly asked, “Are you crying? Did I make you cry?”

“No, Bokuto, I’m not crying,” Akaashi said, still hiding his smile. He rolled over and met Bokuto’s eyes. They were glowing with the flashes of lightning. Akaashi looked down, his face feeling hot. “Do you really mean all of that?” 

“Of course I do. When you were in the hospital, I wrote you a bazillion letters as I tried to figure out what was happening and what I was feeling. Near the end, I felt confident with what I was writing to you and trying to tell you. I’ve spent  _ months  _ debating this. I have never meant something so seriously in my entire life.” 

Bokuto cupped Akaashi’s face and ran a thumb over the indented scar above his eyebrow. The wind changed direction and rain pelted the window loudly. Akaashi grabbed Bokuto’s t-shirt and then hesitantly touched the tip of his nose with Bokuto’s. Bokuto closed the space between them and kissed Akaashi gently, cupping the back of his head.

It was short, but whatever stiffness and hesitance they had felt before had dissipated. Akaashi sighed, lowering his head and pressing it to Bokuto’s chest. 

“I love you,” he mumbled, loosening the grip he had on Bokuto’s shirt and smoothing out the wrinkles he’d created. “I wanted so badly to hate you, but…” 

Bokuto wrapped his arms around Akaashi’s shoulders tightly, resting his chin on Akaashi’s head. He stared at the rain trickling down the window and the lightning illuminating the room. He could feel Akaashi breathing. He could feel him moving between their bodies, nervously massaging his hands. 

“The sun’s a star, right?” Bokuto asked. 

“Yes,” came Akaashi’s muffled reply. 

“Then if we were stars, you’d be the sun,” Bokuto mused, still hugging Akaashi and still shielding him from the storm outside. “You’re the brightest thing in my life. I know you’re going to disagree with me, but if we were planets-”

“The sun’s a star,” Akaashi bluntly reminded.

“Oh, right, well, if we were stars, despite what anyone else thinks, you’re the sun. You’re  _ my _ sun. You’re nothing flashy-” 

“Thanks,” Akaashi interrupted. 

Bokuto loosened his hug and looked down at him. “Would you stop interrupting me? I was  _ going _ to say, you’re nothing flashy at  _ first _ , but you’re beautiful when you relax and let your walls down, like the sun is when it’s rising and setting. You’re constant, you’re comforting, and you’re so fucking important. The only difference is I’d be happy to see you in the morning.” 

Akaashi covered his growing smile with a hand and closed his eyes. This was the Bokuto he knew. This was the Bokuto he adored and fell in love with. This was the Bokuto that wouldn’t let him fall behind. He’d grab Akaashi’s hand and pull him forward, out into the world to experience life with whatever it threw at them. 

“How are your hips?” Bokuto asked, lightly resting a hand on Akaashi’s waist. 

Akaashi rolled over again, slotting his body in perfectly against Bokuto’s. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, listening to the rain and thunder. 

“They still hurt, but I think I can sleep now.”


End file.
